But what’s in it for me?
A joke that made the rounds among sophomores of the mid-1960s. Came to mind after I posted the book review on The Virtue of Selfishness.
Old Jules
But what’s in it for me?
A joke that made the rounds among sophomores of the mid-1960s. Came to mind after I posted the book review on The Virtue of Selfishness.
Old Jules
Posted in Book Reviews, Books, Current Issues, Reading
Tagged Books, culture, Human Behavior, humor, Life, lifestyle, philosophy, psychology, Reading, Reviews
Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.
I’ve said a few things about Ayn Rand on this blog a number of readers found objectionable. A goodly number found it offensive enough to cancel subscriptions, which I don’t find objectionable at all.
Fact is, I was once an avid reader of Ayn Rand. Not being a reader of Ayn Rand was a way a person could declare himself a non-pseudo-intellectual, which of course, I certainly didn’t wish to be. At the time, admitting to the shameful fact of not having read Atlas Shrugged, or Fountainhead, reduced the stature of the person admitting it to something akin to not having seen Gone With The Wind.
In all honesty I found Rand’s fiction tedious, with the exception of Anthem, which nobody’d ever heard of [few Rand admirers probably have to this day] and didn’t win any intellectual points in the 1960s. So when I came across The Virtue of Selfishness, in 1965, I welcomed the read because I thought it could provide discussable insights into Rand’s viewpoints while sparing the reader all the muscle-flexing fictional heroes.
Which it did. And having read it I quickly ceased being an admirer of Rand, to whatever extent I might have been previously.
I suspect those who read, or claim to have read Ayn Rand today probably derive opinions about her, and her work, from the fiction works and admiration for the fictional characters. The gut-level response to Horatio Algerism with a bit of Paul Bunyan thrown in.
But the appeal of Rand at the time was located in fictional characters. The Virtue of Selfishness quickly was to be found on the reduced price shelves at the book stores. Because, the simple fact is that nobody loves an ego-maniac. Nobody loves a selfish, grasping, gluttonous, greedy person when the fictional fantasies are stripped away.
And giving it a fancy name, objectivism, rationalizing the state-of-being that goes with it, just doesn’t add anything to the equation. There might never have been a culture in the history of mankind where greed was openly, admittedly, frankly, an object of admiration. In fact, the opposite is mostly true.
So today when Rand admirers are justifying their world-views by using her tepid arguments in favor of devil-take-the-hindmost, they rarely use the name of her tour d’force work, where she attempts to explain herself. They know somewhere inside themselves it’s off-putting to the listener.
So the buzzwords are used, instead. Short phrases bounced around back and forth that needn’t be defended.
Nobody needs Ayn Rand to justify selfishness and self-centeredness, but she provides an excuse, however lame.
Old Jules
Edit 8:12 am – There’s a mysterious, paradoxical side of the 21st Century fascination with Rand I neglected to mention. Today admiration for Rand is the unlikely and somewhat ironic focal point where fundamentalist Christians join hands with atheists. Both quote snippets of Rand, claim to have read her.
All of which makes a certain amount of sense for atheists of a particular sort. But it’s not easy to reconcile with Christianity. After all, lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, anger, envy and pride have been universally accepted as the Seven Deadly, or Venal, or Mortal Sins since a time long before Protestants. And I don’t recall any Protestant sect ever declaring openly to repudiate them.
Posted in 2012, Adventure, America, Book Reviews, Books, Human Behavior
Tagged ayn rand, Book reviews, Books, culture, economy, Human Behavior, humor, Life, lifestyle, objectivism, philosophy, politics, psychology, rational self-interest, Reading, Reviews, selfishness, seven deadly sins, society, sociology, The virtue of selfishness
Another Newbery. Kids, back when kids still played outdoors unsupervised with other kids. When they still dreamed their own games and played them. Still went door-to-door a few at a time knocking on doors on Halloween.
But almost the end of it, and Snyder manages to catch the seed of why in The Egypt Game. Partly it was computers, of course. But, despite the fact it’s a book for kids, a threat haunts the wings and the sidelines in this one, and the threat rhymes too well with what was still in the future in 1967, to be much fun.
A kid changes towns and schools, comes to live with a grandma while her mom takes a run at Hollywood. Seriously. Naturally the girl is infatuated with what she left behind, the glamor of mom’s aspirations. And naturally the kids around her aren’t overly impressed.
But grandma lives in a stack of apartments and some of the units have kids her age and proximity demands they become friends. Basic setting.
The Hollywood girl has imagination, though. She finds a vacant, private lot with a storage building behind an antique store with lots of the kinds of artifacts kids once couldn’t resist. She and her friends begin the Egypt game, building a shrine, creating rituals and donning costumery.
But they’re being watched from a back room window in the antique store by a man everyone in the neighborhood’s afraid of. Not because he’s done anything sinister, but because he’s definitely not sociable.
Meanwhile a kid is murdered in the vicinity and parents batten down the hatches, demanding rules be followed and a lot more supervision be adherred to. The Egypt Game continues, but it goes further underground. Still watched through the back window.
But somewhere toward the end things manage to turn around in a way to make this plot refreshing, a ray of sunshine where today, most likely, it would go an entirely different way.
A nice read. Adults will get a smile, kids will probably remember it. Not as long as they’d remember Charlotte’s Web, or Stuart Little, maybe. But they’ll probably recall it for a while.
Old Jules
Posted in Adventure, Book Reviews, Books
Tagged Book reviews, Books, Newbery, Reading, Reviews, The Egypt Game, Zilpha Keatley Snyder
Don’t expect the earthquake power of The Name of the Rose in this one. Don’t even expect the addictive confusion of Foucault’s Pendulum. Umberto Eco never does the same job twice. After he’s done it once it doesn’t need doing again. Even though the reader-heart might hunger, grovel and beg.
So the monastic whodunit, the Dante-esque tour through a maze of mist and myth are replaced by the subtle, savage Eco wit, a God’s Little Acre fantasy, and inevitable, once again, awe. Where the hell does a writer such as Eco come from? Why can’t I create characters, plots, webs of credible craziness to challenge dreams and nightmares?
For instance, near the time of the 4th Crusade sack of Constantinople:
“[I] told the whole story to my father Galiaudo who said you big booby getting mixed up with sieges and the like one of these days you’ll get a pike up your ass that stuff is all for the lords and masters so let them stew in their own juice because we have the cows to worry about and we’re serious folk forget about Frederick, first he comes then he goes then he comes back and it adds up to fuckall.”
Yeah, we’re talking the 4th Crusade. It ain’t enough Baudolino, a peasant lad, befriends Frederick Barbarossa, gets himself adopted and sent off to Paris for schooling. Eco’s not going to be satisfied until he can rain it down knee-deep. He sends Baudolino off searching for Prester John, where plots, characters and settings have some elbow room.
Gargantua and Pentagruel, by Umberto Eco, more-or-less. If you can’t laugh until you cry reading Rabelais, you’d best stay-the-hell away from Baudolino. But if, on the other hand, you can, if you’ve done it so many times you roar when you notice Gargantua on the bookshelf, you need Baudolino. And quite possibly some professional help.
A damned good book. A keeper.
Old Jules
Posted in Book Reviews, Books
Tagged baudolino, Book reviews, Books, Reviews, umberto eco
Good morning readers. Thanks for coming by for a read this morning.
This book ought to be required reading for all these namby-pamby ‘thank you for your service’ self-hugging smugness goodygoody submerged hypocrites, thinks I.
These are the WWII experiences told by men who came back from WWII and didn’t talk about it. Didn’t join the VFW, didn’t wave any flags, and grew old holding it inside their heads because what they saw and experienced as young men didn’t fit inside the picture the US Empire was drawing of itself and its conduct of WWII.
Eventually some decided it was time to tell it and O’Donnell was there to record what they said. Into The Rising Sun was the result. They told of being sent into places nobody needed to go, under-equipped with incompetent leadership, under-supplied, half-starved into malaria swamps against an enemy no better off than they were.
They told of the most significant experience of their lives. A dismal experience perpetrated by negligence, mediocrity, politics, publicity and lies for the folks back home waving flags and beating drums. Sending their own sons off to join them in jungles where getting captured meant becoming a meal for the enemy. Where shooting all prisoners was the norm.
Burma, the Solomons, the South Pacific they lived didn’t make its way into any Broadway musicals and the ‘thank you for your service’ expressions represented an irony too confusing to face. Legions of men betrayed by their government for convenience, whims and indifference. Betrayed by a failure of the military leadership to commit itself to the reality they were living and fulfill their own responsibilities, the only excuse for their existence.
The 20th Century is loaded with places a person wouldn’t care to have been. What these men lived wasn’t unique. Happened so many places to so many men of the 20th Century from all countries a book couldn’t list them all.
But this book probably represents as good a synopsis as anyone’s likely to produce. It’s good the old men finally told it.
Old Jules
Posted in 1940's, 2000's, 2012, Adventure, America, Book Reviews, Books, Government, History, Human Behavior, Military, Politics
Tagged Book reviews, Books, culture, Events, History, Human Behavior, Life, lifestyle, military, military history, pacific, patriotism, politics, psychology, Reviews, society, sociology, veterans, world war II, WWII
Hi readers. Thanks for coming by.
If any of you are bored, or maybe a bit ashamed hearing yourselves parrot to one another how much you hate Muslims, or Arabs, or one of the numerous other epithets you apply to people of Semitic ancestry without knowing a damned thing about them, you might find this a cleansing read. [Long sentence, eh?]
I found it in a ‘free’ box in a thrift store held together by rubber bands, but there’s probably another read left in this copy. If any of you can’t find a copy and want this one I’ll send it to you, rubber bands and all.
Lawrence was a young Englishman assigned early in WWI to go into the desert and try raising a rebellion among the Beduins against the Turkish Empire. The allies were having an awful time with those Turks, getting themselves made monkeys of, their cannon-fodder reduced to cannon-fodder without seeing any positive results. Someone got the idea a revolt in the background might help.
So young Lawrence found himself a camel and headed out to make friends of the tribes, to try arranging dissatisfaction among them. To offer money, weapons, military advisors, explosives to weaken the back door to pesky Turkey.
Lawrence lived among them several years. Became trusted by them, successfully stirred them into revolt, led them, came to respect and understand them. Earned their trust, I should have said, to the extent any representative of a European power could be trusted. And trusted them in a more-or-less realistic way.
These are his memoirs, his exploits, his observations about the people. The events that came to be important as an influence on the future running right to the present. And changed his entire perspective about loyalties, betrayals, patriotism and individual responsibility.
In some ways what happened to Lawrence is reminescent of what the Templars were accused of and slaughtered for by the European powers. Becoming too familiar, dangerously understanding of the fabled, demonized enemy.
Lawrence could probably offer an Eighth Pillar of Wisdom if he’d survived until today and had a chance to offer his thoughts about what he’d see around him.
A worthy read, worth the rubber bands holding it together. 655 pages with introduction and remarks by his friend, George Bernard Shaw.
Old Jules
Posted in 2012, Adventure, Book Reviews, Books, History, Military, Politics
Tagged Arabia, Book reviews, Books, culture, desert nomads, Education, History, Human Behavior, humor, Lawrence of Arabia, Life, lifestyle, Middle East, Reviews, society, sociology, T.E. Lawrence, Turkish Empire, wisdom, writers, WWI, WWI in Asia
Hi readers. Thanks for coming for a read. I bought this tome in a thrift store in Kerrville before I knew it’s the hottest piece of literature to be had in TimeWarpVille [Junction], Texas.
I suppose that qualifies me to brag I have a nose for cool, an instinct for hot, to boast that I was also country when country wasn’t cool, same as the song said.
Over in TimeWarpVille every business in town has a stack of these with a $10+ pricetag. And customers standing in line to buy soft drinks, potato chips, deer corn, and steel fenceposts will each answer verbal quiz questions about it, when asked.
They likes it. They likes it real good. They know the family heirs to the publishing history. This I know to be true because I asked and was answered.
I’m reasonably comfortable some of the other parts of this non-fiction book are also true. There’s a fair amount of documentation and affidavits from people alive at the time of the incidents certifying various parts of the story they had personal knowledge about.
I’d guess the older brother, Clinton’s part of the tale he’d possibly be able to pass a polygraph on 75-80%. Maybe higher. Most of the details he gives don’t conflict with anything clearly different and known under more verifiable circumstances elsewhere.
Brother Jeff’s part of the tale, however, has a somewhat different air about it, to my suspicious mind. I ain’t going to say he wasn’t traded to the Apache, not going to say he wasn’t adopted by Geronimo. But if I had to stake any money on the truth or fiction of it I’d put my large bills on most of his story being lost in the dust of history because it ain’t on these pages.
Not that it matters. Fact is, the book is a hoot, an interesting read, a flashback to a time when Brother Comanche still rode southeast under a Comanche moon, killing, taking captives, stealing horses. Good descriptions from a couple of kids of settlers before their capture about their lives, the family.
And both brothers succeed in spinning yarns Marvin Hunter could put on a printed page well enough to keep the reader turning them, not putting the book aside for something with more potential for holding the mind in place.
You Texas readers would almost certainly enjoy this tome, thinks I.
Old Jules
Posted in 2012, Book Reviews, Books, History, Native American, Native Americans, Texas
Tagged apache, book review, Books, captives, Comanche, History, Human Behavior, humor, Junction, society, sociology, texas
Hi readers. I don’t know whether I’ve ever mentioned on this blog that I’m a big admirer of a lot of young adult fiction writers. Mainly Newbery Award folk because I wouldn’t take a chance on anything else that didn’t come highly recommended. So, when I found From The Mixed-Up Files of Mrs Basil E Frankweiler, by EL Konigsberg in a 10 cent basket at the dogpound thrift store in Kerrville, I snagged it. Same as I’d have done with any Newbery.
I’m glad I did. Fact is, while I haven’t encountered many books with that award I considered unworthy of the time spent reading them, occasionally I have. But this one’s from back when writers were writers and readers were glad they were.
The basic plot’s just a brother and sister who decide to run away from home. But beyond that summary it becomes a reading experience, as opposed to the alternatives too frequently provided in best selling books.
The kids each have talents, each balancing the weaknesses of the other, each recognizing that fact, and the entire plot and characterization orbits it, relies on it. The brother’s the financial side of things. The sister’s a planner.
So she plans where two youngers could probably really have gotten by with hiding in 1967 for a couple of weeks without being discovered, without getting bored. And the brother provides the funds needed to get there with his winnings from cheating at cards on the school bus.
What’s not to like? Hell, nothing’s not to like. It’s a fast read, so it leaves the reader with plenty of time to read it twice, which he’ll want to do if he’s an admirer of good, serious wordsmithing manifested in plots, characters and fast moving events.
They hide in the Metropolitan Museum, evade guards, study a sculpting by a master, discovering secrets about it, and bathe in the fountain at night fishing for coins.
Great read if you aren’t a snob who only reads really good Stevie Ray King, Norbert Robbers and Louis L’Amour.
Old Jules
Posted in 1960's, 2012, Book Reviews, Books, Creative Writing, Reading
Tagged Book reviews, Books, culture, Education, newbery award, Reviews, young adult
My first introduction to science fiction came in the Portales Junior High School Library around 1958. One of the first of the hundreds of Sci-Fi books read over the course of a lifetime was Red Planet, by Robert A. Heinlein. Probably Keith, one of the readers of this blog, stood beside me in PJHS Library and argued over who’d get to check it out first.
The library didn’t include a lot to select from and we pored over them all. Thunder and Roses, by Theodore Sturgeon. City, by Clifford D. Simak. The Martian Chronicles, by Ray Bradbury. The Stars are Ours, and Star Born, by Andre Norton. And anything by Robert Heinlein.
Written in 1940, Waldo must have been one of Heinlein’s earliest novels. By the late 1950s it was still too early to be profound. Most of the setting, plot, concepts Heinlein visualized in 1940 hadn’t yet come to pass. Hadn’t made their way into human reality in a form more concrete than a pleasurable indulgence in imagination set to words. My memories of reading it were vague compared to hundreds of other works by Heinlein and other visionaries who hammered and blasted the new genre into mainstream readership.
So when Waldo showed up in a box of books in the Saint Vincent de Paul Thrift Store in Kerrville for a dime each and I bought them all, noticing Waldo among them, I was only mildly interested. Another couple of hours of something to read before dropping off to sleep, I figured.
I was wrong and discovered how wrong I was roughly 20 pages into the book. Squinted, read and re-read it far past my normal sleep time. Read it again the next day. Twice.
Aside from a goodly other phenomena Heinlein described in 1940 that eventually came to pass decades later, he discusses others that haven’t yet made it into mainstream thinking. One of which includes something I’ve been examining with insane intensity during the past several years, began experimenting with during the late 1990s. Dropped, partly because of Y2K, partly because the Internet and home computer RAM didn’t yet allow the accumulation and examination of sufficient evidence to arrive anywhere beyond conjecture and assertion.
Thankee, Saint Vincent de Paul Thrift Store. And thankee Robert Heinlein, particularly for this one.
I keep Waldo close at hand, thumb through it when I’m pondering where things are going as I go through my daily downloading rituals, working my way through the maze to the center.
You mightn’t, probably won’t be as impressed with this tome as I am. But I’m betting if you can find it you’ll be more than mildly surprised. Find yourself asking, “How the hell did Heinlein figure all that out in 1940?“
If not, you’ll at least enjoy a fun plot, good characters, a couple of hours of science fiction back when that’s what it was.
Old Jules
Posted in 1940's, 1950's, 2012, Book Reviews, Books, History, Reading, Science
Tagged Book reviews, Books, culture, heinlein, History, Human Behavior, humor, psychology, Reading, sci-fi, science, science fiction, society, sociology, technology
English Seamen In The 16th Century, Lectures Delivered at Oxford, Easter Term, 1893-94, James Anthony Froude.
Saturday evenings after they finish an auction a couple of blocks from her home in Olathe, Kansas, Jeanne often goes to the parking lot to nose through what didn’t sell and is being readied to haul to the dump. When she comes across books she thinks might be to my tastes, she calls me and asks if I’d like her to snag them and send them to me. This tattered old tome was one such.
I’d never heard of Froude and she said the book was beat up badly, but I made a snap decision and had her take it. Thanks, Coincidence Coordinators, and twice-thanks, Jeanne.
The Project Gutenberg EBook of English Seamen in the Sixteenth Century, by James Anthony Froude, http://www.gutenberg.org/files/18209/18209-h/18209-h.htm.
I considered myself modestly well-versed on the times from Henry VIII through Elizabeth, the English Reformation, the Huguenots in Holland, the Inquisition, the Spanish super-power status, and the troubles with Mary, Queen of Scots. But somehow I’d never put it all together. I’d never paused to ask myself how England, a country virtually without military power, no navy to speak of, came to become an empire, a sea power without equal during a relatively short time-span.
I’d also never asked myself the careful questions about the defeat of the Spanish Armada by what amounted to a scattering of privately owned ships, almost without any help from the crown. In fact, a tiny, fragmented private navy having to find ways around the obstructions, mind-changings, mood shifts and flighty fancies and wishful thinkings of Elizabeth.
Froude makes a strong case for the premise that the two greatest western powers of the time, the Catholic Church and the king of Spain, forced them into the future kicking and screaming in protest. By arrogance, pride, cruelty, certainty in the belief they could do anything and get by with it, they blind-sided themselves. They forced a population of merchants and fisherman-sailors to learn to build ships and fight at sea as an alternative to being tortured by the Inquisition, forced into slavery in Spanish galleys, or burned at the stake.
Even after Citizens Hawkins and Drake began ravaging the Spanish shipping, intercepting Spanish treasure, burning Spanish towns in revenge for Spanish and Inquisition atrocities, the Inquisition and Philip refused to see what loomed on the horizon. They continued plotting to assassinate Elizabeth in hopes of bringing Mary to the throne and Catholicism back to the realm. They continued capturing English crewmen and punishing them for doctrinal heresy.
And eventually, assembled the greatest war fleet in the history of mankind to invade the island and restore doctrinal purity. The outcome seemed obvious to them and there appeared to be no other, gazing into their own futures.
But Froude, gazing into the past, has an advantage, looking through the centuries since, past the Napoleonic times, the generations of British imperialism and conquest, to the day the power of the Catholic Church began the first lesson in humility. And to the day the power of Spain imploded.
A recommended read.
Old Jules
Today on Ask Old Jules: Your Life’s Work?
Old Jules, what do you regard as your life’s work?
What will be your major contribution to the world?
Posted in Book Reviews, History, Human Behavior
Tagged Book reviews, Books, English Reformation, Francis Drake, History, Human Behavior, Life, Reviews